


two blue hearts

by seb



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Trans Male Character, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24163444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seb/pseuds/seb
Summary: locked in our wrong mindsso can we make the most out of no time?Zack visits the farm like it's a second home. Cloud thinks too much.
Relationships: Zack Fair/Cloud Strife
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	two blue hearts

**Author's Note:**

> I am so bad at titles and summaries please forgive me...

It’s the same as it’s always been. 

Cloud has just finished harvesting the tomatoes when that beaten-up, blue pickup truck rattles down the dirt road towards his house. It’s a piece of shit, and Cloud has told Zack as much countless times already. Instead of getting rid of it, Zack makes puppy-dog eyes at him until Cloud huffs and takes it into the barn to work on it. Her, sorry, work on her. Cherry. Pronounced Sherry. Because Zack is a fucking imbecile. 

As it is, Cherry sputters and wobbles her way up the trail and into her usual spot by the fence guarding the wheat and overlooking the horizon. Zack jumps out not a moment later, dusting off his overalls and picking a stalk of wheat to chew on from the field.

“Hey!” Cloud yells, hiking the basket of tomatoes higher up on his hip. “Quit it!”

Zack gives him a shit-eating grin and puts the stalk in his mouth grain-first. It’s always horrifying to watch, knowing exactly what grows and resides in those fields, but he watches anyway. After getting a mouthful of grain, Zack tucks the drooping stalk beside his ear for later. 

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” Zack says when Cloud’s in earshot. He’s leaning an elbow on the back of his truck, raising his brows as he looks Cloud up and down. Cloud flushes, humiliated. His mom just made him this new smock— red plaid with a cloud embroidered on the white fabric in the front— so he could have one for the fields and another for the barn. Of course Zack had to show up today. 

Cloud lays his hand on the tomatoes in his basket, finds an overripe one, and flings it at Zack’s chest. Zack catches it in midair, because of course he does, and laughs as he juggles it in his hands, then back into the basket. “Now that’s not very nice.”

Without a proper, stinging retort, Cloud turns his back on Zack. “If you want to help me pick the watermelons, you’d better follow.” He doesn’t have to look back to know that Zack is hot on his heels. 

He heaves the basket off his hip and onto the front porch for Mom to take care of once she’s done checking on the coop. Zack is, sure enough, bouncing on his heels behind Cloud, thumbs tucked into the pockets of his overalls. “How we doing this?”

“I’ve already got a wheelbarrow by the field,” Cloud says, wiping his hands on his smock. “I have another basket of tomatoes to bring up here, but after that we’re good to go.”

“Nah,” Zack says, shaking his head. His hair sways gently in the summer breeze, like a shitty romcom. Cloud wishes he could unsee it. “ _ I _ have another basket of tomatoes to bring up here.  _ You _ have to mark the ripe ones. You know I’m bad at telling.”

Cloud nods curtly, leading the way to the fields as if Zack doesn’t know them just as well as Cloud does. They part to go to their separate plots, Zack heaving the basket of tomatoes back to the house and Cloud wetting his thumb to mark the ripe watermelons with mud. He doesn’t understand why Zack can’t do this part. Tap it with your knuckles, check the bottom, check the stem; it’s not hard. But maybe Cloud thinks that way because he’s been doing this all of his life, and Zack only hopped on board with him a decade ago.

A decade. Cloud mulls it over like a weird taste in his mouth. He’s known Zack for 10 years, give or take, and yet he can’t imagine a day before him; and doesn’t want to imagine a day after him. As much as he wishes he could kick Cherry to the curb, it’d mean Zack’s visits would grow few and far between— and Cloud can’t have that. 

“Hey, slacker!” Zack yells from down the row. He’s got a watermelon in the crook of his arm and his handy pocket knife in his waving hand. “Big yield this time ‘round, huh?”

“Quit waving that thing around!” Cloud yells back, taking out his own knife and severing the tendril of the watermelon at his feet. Zack laughs, loud, and bends to pick up another watermelon and place it in the wheelbarrow behind him. He drags it closer to Cloud, completely abandoning post. 

“Did you already pick the strawberries?” Zack asks, letting the wheelbarrow settle before moving to pick up the watermelons Cloud has already cut. 

“You should know by now,” Cloud scoffs, snapping another tendril. “That when you swing by ‘round noon, I’ll have already picked the strawberries.”

Zack pouts— really, truly pouts— and nearly drops the watermelon he was holding. “Aw, come on, Cloud,” he whines, clutching the melon to his chest like a child with a teddy bear. “You know it’s my favorite.”

“Because you eat half the bucket before we even get back to the house?” Cloud questions idly, pushing the wheelbarrow back up the row. Looking back at Zack’s puppy-dog eyes, Cloud sighs. “I’ll save them for you tomorrow. But you better be here early.” Zack rejoices, shimmying his hips and smiling like the sun above him. Cloud lets himself smile as he shakes his head. “Now get back to work. What am I paying you for?”

As they wheel the watermelons back to the house, Zack spits out his farmer’s gum, picking at the chaff stuck in his teeth to be presentable for Mom. “You know,” he drawls, bumping Cloud with his elbow. “You’re looking awfully cute today.”

Cloud blushes something fierce, tightening his grip on the wheelbarrow. “Mom made it.”

“I wasn’t talking about the smock.”

At Cloud’s embarrassed silence, Zack laughs, ruffling Cloud’s hair. When they make it back to the house, they find Mom dozing on the porch swing with one of the barn cats beside her. At the squeaking of the wheelbarrow, she opens her eyes, brightening at the sight of Zack. She gets up with an exclamation of his name, making her way down the steps to greet him. 

Zack salutes in return, grin bright. “Hey, Mom,” he says fondly, closing his eyes as she reaches up to run her hand through his hair.

“You’re looking healthy!” Mom comments. Her fingers catch on the wheat stalk tucked behind his ear. “What’s this?”

Cloud snorts, sitting on the edge of the porch and petting the cat that rubs its face against him, “I told you he chews that shit like a cow—”

“Cloud,” Mom says sharply. “Watch your mouth.”

He mumbles something under his breath with a roll of his eyes. Mom dusts off her dress, patting Zack on the shoulder. “Cloud picked strawberries without you,” she says. Zack is about to start whining again, his face already dropping, when Mom interrupts him. “But I made ice cream and cheesecake with them.”

Zack gasps, hands curling excitedly. “With big chunks?”

“Why, of course with big chunks! You think I’d forget?” Zack bounds up the steps into the house, Mom laughing as she follows. She brushes her hand gently through Cloud’s hair as she passes. “Will you be joining us?”

“I need to check on Boco,” Cloud mutters, pushing himself up off the porch.

“Already did,” Mom says. “He’s fine. Come inside and relax.” She tugs on his sleeve, then heads inside. After a moment of looking over the fields, wind blowing against him, Cloud follows.

They eat ice cream and cheesecake until Zack’s teeth turn pink. Mom questions him about everything, as per usual.  _ How’s the farm? How’s Cherry? Have you seen Aerith recently? Change your mind about college? Build anything lately? _

“Actually,” Zack says, dropping his spoon in his bowl. “I’m making a flower cart for Aerith. Late birthday, early Candlenights gift. It’ll be a lot easier on her than the thing she hauls around now… easier on the eyes, too.”

Mom swats him with the hand towel she keeps by the sink and he laughs, boisterous and bright. “Hey,” he says once he calms, looking at Cloud excitedly. “Think I can spend the night so I don’t miss pickin’ strawberries tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Mom says, taking his empty bowl. “But door open.”

“ _ Mom _ ,” Cloud hisses, exasperated. Mom laughs, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

“I’m kidding, Cloud,” she sing-songs, tapping his nose. He shakes his head, nose scrunching. “Just make sure you call your mother and let her know.”

“Will do, Miss Strife!” Zack says, already bounding back out to the porch with his phone in hand.

Mom shakes her head as he goes, knowing it’s useless to call after him. “What a nice boy,” she says for what may be the millionth time, wiping her hand on the hand towel. Cloud is inclined to agree.


End file.
